


22. Fist

by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG



Series: Twinkstober 2020 [22]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Background Poly, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, Fisting, Kinktober, M/M, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Switch Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Switch Jaskier | Dandelion, Witchersexual Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG
Summary: Twinkstober 2020Prompt: fistSometimes stupid ideas are the best ones.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Twinkstober 2020 [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923553
Comments: 12
Kudos: 198





	22. Fist

**Author's Note:**

> What better way to start the new year than with a story about Geralt getting fisted within an inch of his life?

Jaskier has had... _a lot_ of stupid ideas in his life. One might argue that choosing to tag along with a Witcher, and not just _any_ Witcher, nay, it had to be the Butcher of Blaviken, was a stupid idea. He could've easily died that very first day, depriving the continent of both his musical talent and his (back then still developing) gifts as a lover.

Luckily, he lived to see another day, and now it's been a decade and the so-called Butcher is currently kneeling between his thighs and trying to suck his soul out through his cock, so it all turned out rather well, if he says so himself.

Anyway, back to stupid ideas. Jaskier and Geralt don't have a set dynamic when it comes to the bedroom, thank the gods. Both enjoy getting to fuck and being fucked, so it all works out perfectly.

The thing about Geralt, though... He can be a bit of a size queen. Jaskier doesn't blame him, the Witcher himself is really rather well-endowed and from his winters at Kaer Morhen Jaskier knows that his brothers are equally gifted. He also knows that, before he himself came along and lured the White Wolf into his bed, Geralt would spend most of his winters with said brothers, getting fucked silly all over the keep. Not that they don't do that any more just because Jaskier's in the picture. He's not a jealous lover, and he would never keep Geralt from the people he loves and who love him in turn.

Besides, he has _sampled the wares_ , as it were, a number of times, and. Well. He definitely won't deny Geralt that.

Now, as he's sitting there on the bed with his cock down Geralt's throat, an idea occurs to him, and since good sex tends to remove his filter entirely, he holds his hand up against the candlelight and muses, "Do you think I could get my whole hand up your arse?"

Geralt stops, Jaskier still halfway in his throat. Then, slowly, agonisingly slowly, he pulls off. Jaskier meets his gaze much more steadily than he actually feels capable of. It was a stray, lust-drunk thought, but Geralt is looking at him like a predator, like he is going to rip his head off if he doesn't shove said hand up said arse _right this instant_.

And that's how Jaskier finds himself kneeling behind Geralt who has a couple of pillows shoved under his hips, three fingers deep inside him and nowhere near done yet. Geralt takes three, even four fingers beautifully, opening up for Jaskier with breathy little moans and soft whimpers whenever Jaskier parts his fingers inside him, stretching him gently.

"Look at you," Jaskier coos, in a tone of voice that is probably not all that appropriate when you're about to put your entire hand up your lover's arse; much too saccharine and fucking _smitten_. "Opening up so nicely for me, like a flower."

Geralt grunts, and Jaskier bites his lip to hold in his amused huff. "Shut up and get on with it," the Witcher growls, and Jaskier pries him open again, further than before; Geralt groans and drops his head onto the mattress.

"Someone's needy," the bard muses, pumping his fingers in and out a couple of times, so slowly he knows Geralt is about to climb the walls. "Are you that desperate to have me inside of you?" He pushes forward, until his knuckles meet Geralt's rim, and then he keeps pushing, just a little to make Geralt feel the stretch. "Want me to fuck your greedy hole with my fist?"

" _Jaskier_." Geralt groans and tilts his hips, spreads his knees wider, begging with his body if not with his words.

"You're delicious like this, my love," Jaskier murmurs as he pours more oil over his hand, then pulls his fingers free until just the tips are inside Geralt. When he pushes back in it's with all four fingers, and Geralt trembles and moans, hands curling into the sheets. "There you go, darling," Jaskier breathes, "gods, so pretty."

He goes slow, obviously much slower than Geralt would prefer. His cock hangs fat and heavy between his thighs, drooling, and soon he tilts his hips, back and forth, half humping the pillows beneath him and half pushing back against Jaskier's hand. It's intoxicating, watching someone as powerful as Geralt reduced to mindlessly chasing his pleasure, and Jaskier wraps his free hand around his own cock for a moment, giving himself a firm squeeze.

By the time Jaskier can just push his knuckles past Geralt's rim, the man is near constantly moaning, his own fist shoved between his teeth to muffle his noises, and Jaskier leans down and brushes a kiss over Geralt's tailbone. "Let me hear you, please, I love it so much when you're loud for me," he murmurs into the Witcher's skin, and Geralt answers with a deep groan that sounds like the bard's name. He smiles, fucking his fingers a little faster into his Witcher. "Hm, just like that, darling. Think you're ready for my thumb now."

"Fuck, yes, give it to me," Geralt groans, head pressed into the mattress, and lust shoots through Jaskier, furnace hot and sudden.

"Gods, Geralt, whatever did I do to deserve you?" More oil, and he pulls back ever so slightly, tucks his thumb into his palm, and pushes in.

Geralt is panting, his thighs trembling and his back sweat-slick, and Jaskier wishes he could conserve this moment somehow, encase it in amber and hold it close for the rest of his life. He has had Geralt's trust for a long time now, but this? This is transcendent.

He stops when he's inside Geralt up to the knuckles again, and for a long moment he just stares. He has relatively slim hands, and yet. _And yet._ "Fuck, Geralt, that's... how does it feel, darling?"

He expects some snarky reply, something along the lines of, "How do you think," or something similar, but Geralt just moans and pants and shakes, and Jaskier pulls back ever so slightly, until the pressure becomes less, more bearable. Then he pushes in again, pulls back, until he finds a rhythm, until Geralt starts meeting his thrusts again. He is stretched impossibly wide, and the noises he makes have Jaskier's cock dripping between his legs.

Finally Geralt's patience seems to wear thin, and he pushes his hips back harder. Jaskier whines. He can't imagine what it must feel like. "Gods, are you sure, darling?"

" _Yes_ ," comes the groaned reply, and Jaskier puts a hand on Geralt's back, gentles him until he stops moving. The Witcher is trembling under his palm, near insensible with pleasure, and Jaskier bows over him again, kisses his spine.

"Thank you, my love, thank you for trusting me," he murmurs, breathless, and then he presses in, _in, **in** ,_ Geralt panting and whining under him.

It seems to go on forever and ever, the hot press of Geralt around his hand nigh unbearable, his noises so indicative of the overwhelming nature of this act, and Jaskier finds himself panting right alongside the Witcher.

And then.

 _Then_.

Jaskier's knuckles slide past the oh so resistant ring of muscle and all of a sudden he's inside Geralt almost to the wrist.

"Geralt," Jaskier breathes, awestruck, staring.

The Witcher doesn't move, barely seems to breathe, and Jaskier fears, for a sudden icy second, that this has been a horrible mistake, that he has hurt Geralt with this hare brained idea of his.

"Darling, are you-"

" _Fuck me_ ," Geralt groans finally, drags in an almost painful breath, then reaches back and wraps a hand around Jaskier's wrist. Then he pulls, and Jaskier almost chokes on his tongue as his hand sinks that much deeper. "F-fuck me, Jaskier."

It's the stutter that does it, this complete breaking down of Geralt's well-maintained barriers and stoicism. There is no surer way of reducing Jaskier to a blissful puddle. Jaskier plants his own knees wide, to give himself leverage, and then he pulls his arm back, until Geralt whimpers. Jaskier's knuckles pull on his rim, and he pushes back inside, slow and steady, and Geralt's grip on his arm tightens.

"Like this, my love?" He's mesmerised, the sight of his hand disappearing inside his Witcher utterly incredible. "Gods, you are a _marvel_ , I never could have imagined-"

"Faster," Geralt interrupts in a whine, and Jaskier nearly falls apart then and there.

Of course he complies.

Geralt gasps and moans with each push and pull, his thighs shaking and his cock drooling a veritable puddle between them, and Jaskier is transfixed.

"So good for me, dear heart, so beautiful," he breathes, and Geralt whimpers and when he tilts his hips, Jaskier sinks in even further, and he knows he's hit his sweet spot when Geralt's head snaps up, his spine arching as he cries out. "Fuck, Geralt," Jaskier groans.

"Jaskier, _please_ ," and Jaskier gives in, gives up the thin pretence of control he has been holding on to. He curls his hand into a fist and pulls back, pushes in, and again, and again, until he's working his hand into Geralt at a truly punishing pace that he's fairly sure no one except a Witcher could withstand for long, let alone find enjoyment in.

Geralt is clearly enjoying it a great deal, if the way he moans and cries out and meets Jaskier's thrusts is any indication. "That's it, my wolf," Jaskier grits. Sweat is rolling down the side of his face as he fucks Geralt mercilessly. "Are you gonna come for me? Come with my fist up your lovely arse?"

The Witcher makes a helpless little noise every time Jaskier pushes in again, a breathless little, " _Ah_ ," that sounds half pained and half ecstatic, and Jaskier strokes his other hand over the curve of his arse, down between his thighs, and cradles Geralt's balls in his palm. Geralt's whole body jerks, the motion pushing him back onto Jaskier's arm, until his wrist disappears into the Witcher, and he shouts, trembles, and then, with a moaned, " _Jaskier_ ," he shakes apart.

Jaskier keeps going, fucks him through it, gaze glued to Geralt's hole, and he doesn't stop until Geralt's shouts of ecstasy turn into soft whimpers of overstimulation. Jaskier himself is still rock hard and so aroused he's pretty sure he only needs to touch his cock even once and he'll burst.

Geralt is gasping for breath, face smushed into the sheets, and Jaskier strokes his back softly. "Are you alright, darling?" Instead of giving a verbal answer, Geralt grins rather drunkenly at him over his shoulder, and Jaskier smiles. "I'm so very lucky to have you," he breathes, then leans forward again and kisses the swell of Geralt's arse. "Is it alright if I take it out now?" The Witcher makes a noncommittal sort of noise, but Jaskier can feel him relax around his hand and slowly, ever so slowly, he pulls it free.

The knuckles are the hardest part, no surprise there, but once they're past Geralt's rim, it's easy, and when Jaskier pulls his hand away, he can't help but moan at the sight.

"Fuck, Geralt, you're so _open_ ," he whimpers, and Geralt actually huffs a laugh.

"I just had your hand up there, are you really surprised?"

"No, it's just..." He licks his lips, and Geralt's expression softens.

"You can, Jaskier," he says in a low, fucked-out voice, and Jaskier jolts.

"Can what?"

"You can fuck me if you want," and Jaskier feels as though the ground tilts sideways underneath him.

"Are- Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you." His hand is already reaching for their oil though, so who is he trying to kid here? Geralt smiles and reaches back, grabs hold of his cheek and _pulls_ , and Jaskier fumbles with the oil, slicking himself up. "Gods, Geralt," he breathes as he positions himself, and then he pushes in and both of them groan.

"Come on, Jask, fuck your come into me," Geralt is saying as he rocks back against Jaskier, and Jaskier loses it. He fucks Geralt hard and fast, his fingers digging into his hips, the Witcher soft and loose and hot around him, and it's heaven, it's torture, it's perfection. It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time but he doesn't care, he holds on tighter and grinds into Geralt as deep as he can and then he's coming with a punched out groan.

Jaskier collapses onto the bed next to Geralt, panting harshly, and Geralt grins at him lazily. Jaskier mirrors the expression. "Hi."

"Hey," Geralt rumbles, and Jaskier leans over and kisses him; Geralt hums into the contact.

"You alright," he asks when they part, and Geralt nods, then rests his forehead against Jaskier's.

"I liked that," he murmurs, eyes slipping closed, and Jaskier chuckles.

"I noticed." He rubs their noses together. "You took it so well, my darling, I enjoyed it very much."

"Hmm." Geralt rolls off of the pillows, and Jaskier meets him, his chest to Geralt's back as he winds an arm around him. The Witcher hums softly, and they just lie there for a while, enjoying the afterglow wrapped up in each other.

Then Jaskier, still slightly dazed from his really quite fantastic orgasm, asks, "Think you could do that to me, too?"

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: always check with your partner if they're REALLY fine with being fucked after getting fisted, since that can go from nice to "OW OW OW" really fucking fast.
> 
> Come yell at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/formerly_as_g?s=09)!


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